End of the day

As I crawl into bed at the end of my second ever Mothers' Day, I have three thoughts in my head:

I've missed you bed, we used to spend a lot more time together, when did we stop seeing each other?

I've had a fantastic day with The Boy and hubby.

Jesus Christ, my back hurts!

My back and I used to get on alright, the occasional objecting twinge when lifting something heavy, but other than that, we liked each other. When did this change? What happened? When did we fall out?

I'll tell you when. When they shoved a whopping great big needle in between my vertebrae to insert an epidural. No hang on, maybe it was when they had to do it again because they'd done it incorrectly the first time? My back has never been the same since.

Do you know what else changed that day? My bosoms, they now resemble spaniel's ears. No wonderbra on Earth can help them.

Don't even get me started on my skin! Six months post-partum and I turned into a pubescent teenager again. I'm 33 for the love of all things holy, I should not be getting acne now.

Have I ever mention that I fell down the stairs a week after giving birth and ripped all of the stitches out of my episiotomy? And that they wouldn't restitch it?

What about the stretch-marks? My flabby stomach looks like a road-map of Greater London.

The only thing that has started to behave itself is my hair. Eventually! It has finally started to regrow and stopped snapping off.

I know that some of you are nodding in agreement to this. Some of you are thinking "oh belt up and stop moaning!" I bet some of you are still wincing about me ripping my stitches out, aren't you?

However, I want you to understand that I am not moaning because I would do it all over again, one hundred-fold, just so that I can be my little boy's mummy. I adore him with all my heart, and my knackered back.

I am amazed at how much having a kids physically damages our bodies long term. Surely evolution should have sorted that out by now?!
Anyway – lovely tribute to your little man. And I agree. I would always choose to do it again. It's the best prize in the world

OW for the stitches!
Being a Mummy is the best job in the world but involve a whole lot of self sacrifice. I am two and a half months away from our wedding with a bad back, snapping hair and not a proper night's sleep in well over a year.
It help to have a whinge alongside all the knowing of what lucky lucky ladies we are x x x

MY wife calls all those things you've described 'Earned' – she sees them as badges of honour for having three kids – something to be proud of. I love a fancy her all the more for it because she has such pride in the way she looks, even if she's not as taut as she was pre-kids. Lovely post an d great talking point

It's so true, we talk about our birth stories and our lack of sleep and all the other difficult times, but when all is said and done we are lucky to have our children. Your post has made me a bit weepy now!